Novus Orsa
by 1991Kira
Summary: Hermione Granger goes back in time to stop the greatest Dark Lord the world has ever seen. Time-travel story with a twist.


In the dead of the night, a hooded figure made its way to the cemetery.

Clad in a black robe from head to toe, she moved silently among the tombstones. Her hand gripped the handle of her wand as her eyes continually scanned her surroundings for possible threats.

She stopped before two graves at the very back of the forbidding place. Taking out a small piece of parchment from her inner pocket, she quickly read the text and watched as another gravestone popped out from between the other two graves. She tapped her wand against the body of the grave in a strange pattern, which swung open to reveal a set of stairs sloping downwards.

The figure threw one last look around herself and entered the stairway, the entrance closing behind her. Silently setting fire to the parchment she followed the steps into a dimly lit hallway, at the end of which of lay an imposing steel door.

She reached the large gateway and knocked five times in a pattern. Barely a second later, a small flap opened and a guttural voice announced, "Identify yourself."

In response the figure threw back her robe to reveal the scarred face of a witch in her early forties with a lump of fuzzy brown hair, her haunted brown eyes burning with intelligence and an inner strength. "Hermione Granger."

"Password?"

"La luz volverá," she said in fluent Spanish.

The flap closed, and a second later there were the sounds of numerous bolts being undone. The door then swung inward with a loud groan that grated on her already frazzled nerves. She stepped forward into a small chamber which had a tiny pedestal in the middle of it.

As she stood on the pedestal, the disillusioned figures standing in the corners of the room hit her with a barrage of detection spells. Polyjuice, Imperius. . . and a number of charms that even Hermione had never heard of, which was saying something considering she had once been a top level Unspeakable.

She sighed softly. Years ago, a Fidelius charm would have been all the protection one would've needed, and tests like these would have only been considered necessary by the most paranoid of people, like Mad-Eye Moody.

But that was before the Dark Lord had managed to destroy the world.

As Hermione Granger made her way to the meeting room, she reflected on how much the world had changed in the last ten years.

Seventy percent of the world's population was already dead; the rest dying from cancer due to the extremely high amount of radiation in the atmosphere. South America and Africa were deserted wastelands now; North America, Australia and Asia were barely hanging by a thread. Most of the countries of the world were simply gone, as was most of the non-magical population. Indeed, it seemed that magic was the only thing that kept their magical counterparts from following suit.

Powerful wards had been erected over large areas of habitable land all over Europe. But constraints of space and scarcity of resources meant that most magicals had no desire to share these gifts with muggles. In a way, the Wizarding world's tendency to turn a blind eye to the rest of the world seemed to be the only thing that kept them sane at the moment. Considering the fate of the less fortunate was just too difficult a burden to bear.

She shook her head sadly. So much death, so much destruction. All because of the madness of one man.

Oh they had tried to stop him. How they'd tried! But it was not enough. No matter how hard they fought, no matter how much blood they'd shed. . . it simply wasn't enough. He was too powerful, too cunning, always managing to stay one step ahead of all of them; not to mention utterly merciless to his enemies.

Hermione herself knew this better than anyone else. Her entire family had been killed simply to send her a message, a warning not to oppose him. Her husband, her in-laws, her two-year old daughter. . . all burned to death inside their own home, only because she had dared to stand against him.

She pursed her lips in barely suppressed rage. If he'd thought that would've been enough to stop her. . . he didn't know her at all.

With nothing left to live for, she had thrown herself completely into the task of stopping that monster. Countless days spent organizing the resistance movement, countless nights spent researching the most obscure spells and rituals.

And it _still_ wasn't enough.

She glanced despondently around the meeting room of their headquarters. Their numbers only seemed to be growing smaller with each passing day. More and more of their members were falling prey to the Dark Lord's military, despite all the security measures they took. At the rate at which they were going it was only a matter of time before the resistance was completely wiped out.

"I see you made it, Granger."

The man who spoke limped towards her, his peg-leg clanking heavily against the stone floor. His face was heavily scarred, his left arm wrapped around his walking stick tightly. In spite of all that, the wizard still carried himself with the same arrogant swagger of his youth.

"Malfoy," she said neutrally.

He grinned at her cockily, showing several rotted teeth. The years had not been kind to Draco Malfoy.

"Come now, why the long face? I would've thought you'd be happy that your little ritual's coming along so well?"

"Keep your voice down!" she hissed, glancing around to see if they had been overheard. This was one thing she wasn't ready to share with the rest of them yet.

It was astonishing that out of all the people in the world, the only one Hermione trusted with her greatest secret was someone she once despised more than any other. But then war had a way of bring people together.

The blond wizard merely shrugged before walking up to the oak table in the center of the room and clearing his throat loudly.

"The meeting will now come to order."

All noise in the room ceased and everyone turned to regard Hermione and Malfoy, the senior-most members in the room, with quiet unease.

"We have a number of things on the agenda for today," he rasped. "But first things first. . . Jean-Paul?" He indicated a small wizard at the extreme right.

"Our intelligence team from France has not reported in since the last five days."

Hermione felt her breath hitch in her throat. _It can't be. . ._

"Of course, it might be that they're simply unable to communicate. . ." He trailed off awkwardly.

She closed her eyes tightly and shook her head. No, that was impossible. That particular team was headed by Gabrielle Delacour herself, one of the few remaining members of the original Order. She had never failed to report in every three days even once since the last _seven years_. For her to go silent this way meant only one thing: she was dead or worse, captured.

She willed herself not to cry. Another one of her friends gone. How much more loss was she supposed to take?

She made brief eye contact with Malfoy, seeing that he had arrived at the same unsavory conclusion.

"Very well," Malfoy said, swallowing uncomfortably. "Williamson, you're next."

The tall wizard snapped to attention. "Our infiltration team just confirmed the location of one of the concentration camps today afternoon."

Hermione perked up slightly. "Do we have the exact co-ordinates?"

"No, ma'am," he said respectfully. "We have an idea of the general location, but Devon being as big it is. . ."

"How much longer?" Malfoy demanded.

"Three more days, sir. We should have the precise location by then."

"You have two," Hermione said shortly. If half of what their intelligence team said about the camps for muggles was true, they couldn't afford to wait much longer.

"But ma'am. . ."

They were interrupted suddenly by the room being bathed in orange light. Hermione's eyes widened. _A Code Orange?_

"Report!" Malfoy barked into an enchanted mirror.

"Sir, a number of individuals have just entered the perimeter!"

"Hostiles?"

"No, sir," the figure in the mirror said. "They're teenagers. Look like muggles. Probably looking for a place to rest in the graveyard."

"Muggles?" Malfoy asked in disbelief.

There was a good reason to be shocked. For muggles to accidentally stumble across enchanted dwellings was practically unheard of in this day and age.

Then again, this was Dublin. There were a lot of reports about muggles making their way across the Irish sea to escape the carnage back in England.

"What do we do with them, sir?" the wizard in the mirror asked.

Malfoy furrowed his row in thought for a moment. "Standard procedure, Wayne. Wipe their memories and send them to one of our safehouses. See if they need any medical attention."

Hermione bit her lip. Something about this whole thing just seemed off to her somehow.

"Malfoy. . ."

She was cut-off as a powerful tremor rocked the entire room.

"What the bloody hell was that?" one of the members asked.

"Wayne, come in! What's going on? Report, Wayne. . . Dammit" Malfoy cursed, looking at the blank mirror in his hand.

 _It can't be. . ._

"Code red!" Hermione screamed. "Set the status to code red! Everyone. . . ."

She was cut-off as the entire room started to tremble as if being struck by an earthquake. It was getting harder to breathe as the air around them seemed to get thicker. She recognized the build-up of magical energy in their surroundings and whipped around to stare at Malfoy, whose face wore a similar expression of dawning horror.

 _It can't be. . . not **here**. Not **now**._

 _Not **Him**._

Then their world exploded.

* * *

It took a few minutes for Hermione Granger to regain her bearings.

When her eyes began to slowly adjust to her surroundings once again she got up, mindful of the throbbing in her right temple. She glanced around blearily at the wrecked conference room.

"Granger? Granger! Bloody hell, what're you doing just _standing_ there? We have to move!"

"What happ'nd. . ." she slurred as Malfoy approached her. "Where's. . . . evrybdy?"

"Everybody's evacuating, Granger," he panted, dragging her by one arm. "We've been compromised. Now come on!"

Her head cleared and she followed Malfoy out towards one of their emergency exits. She could hear the sounds of fighting coming from the other chambers.

"The others are buying time for us," Malfoy said. "Merlin, how on earth did he mange to get around the _Fidelius_?"

"I don't know," she said grimly. "But it's not the first time he's done it." After all, that was how he'd managed to slaughter her family all those years ago.

Thinking about her family made her think about all those friends who had fallen to that madman. Even now, as she escaped, there were people buying time for her with their very lives. How many more sacrifices . . ?

She froze. _Sacrifices?_

 _Oh no, the ritual!_

"Malfoy," Hermione said urgently. "The ritual chamber! We have to. . ."

"We can't go back, Granger! There's no time! The ritual chamber's on the other side of the complex! He'll be here himself before we. . ."

"But. . . but the ritual! We can't let him find out what we're attempting!"

"We don't have a choice!" Malfoy snapped. "We have to get you out of here!"

"But. . ."

"Granger, for once in your life shut up and _listen_!" he snarled. "You _die_ here, it's all over for us! But if you _survive_ this, you can find another way. It might take another decade or so, but you'll _find another way_! For now, we have to move!"

She nodded and followed him grudgingly. They were only twenty feet from the emergency exit. She watched as Williamson made to pull the door open.

Years of paranoid living was the only thing that saved her as she instinctively threw out a solid shield to protect herself from the explosion. Williamson was not so lucky however, and had been blown to bits along with the door.

She heard Draco swearing behind her as he got to his feet. She coughed as they both were covered by a large amount of dust and grime from the blast.

Even then, there was no mistaking the presence that stood before them. The very air around them crackled with barely suppressed magical energy.

They were too late. _He_ was here.

The Dark Lord walked forward, his tall, thin form sweeping across the narrow corridor. His presence alone seemed to distort their very surroundings. His eyes ablaze with power, his hand gently caressing the Elder Wand in one pale hand.

Hermione Granger took a deep breath and defiantly looked into the eyes of the greatest Dark Lord the world had ever seen.

"Hello, Harry."

* * *

 **AN: What d'you guys think? I had originally thought about making this a one-shot. But if enough people are interested, I might make it a full story.  
**

 **Just be warned that updates may be rather sporadic. I've currently got my hands full with Renegade and the Into the Fray series.**

 **FYI, this is NOT a HermionexDraco pairing.**


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